


Weltschmerz

by laviie



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: It's uhh.. Not that goof, It's... Uhhh.. Not that good but someone still might like it..., M/M, Takes place immediately before Noiz's R:C
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laviie/pseuds/laviie
Summary: And you realize it's not nine yet and you've been awake for less than five minutes, but you're already thinking of him.





	Weltschmerz

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! it's been quite a while since the last time i posted something on here... *blows dust off ao3 account*  
> very weirdly this isn't a minao work- i realized literally all of the works i have up are already mink/aoba centered ehhh-...  
> i hope you like it!! please let me know what you think in the comments, i'll be so happy to read them!!  
> enjoy!! ♡

Berlin doesn't feel the same since when you came back, and you pretend it's all good and you feel nothing but you know better you hope every plane you see crossing those grey skies came from Midorijima only for you.

And not because you miss the green mountains or the mundane streets of that lovely island you stayed in for maybe one or two years, you couldn't miss them anyway since you spent most of your time inside your apartment. But you do miss one person and his kind voice and his bony hands and the way looking at them made you feel like it was all going to be alright. 

 

You open your eyes to a plain white roof, striped in paler lights where the morning sun filtered through the curtains. The way the light rests peacefully and the dust dances happily in circles inside it reminds you of how you met him, how you met Aoba, and how you have never been the same since then. The way you, somehow, resembled the light- only illuminating a small portion of your own reality and stood silently on your own all the time, and the same way he was the dust- making of the tiny comfort zone he knew you felt safe in his spotlight to shine and be enchanting enough for you to completely lose any inhibition and fall straight into the deepness of a feeling you only ever heard people talk about.

And you realize it's not nine yet and you've been awake for less than five minutes, but you're already thinking of him. And you fell asleep yesterday thinking about him as you drifted into darkness in the backseat of a taxi with your eyes barely focused on thousands of city lights outside your window: still thinking that they only seemed sad and lost all of the wonder they brought into your heart, and you believe it's because the eyes of a light heart are what made you know wonder for the first time in your life, and nothing really has had any appeal since then. 

 

You see him in your coffee and you're reminded of him by a waitress at the bar that asks you if you want milk inside it, and you simply shake your head but you're both smiling and tearing up because the childish way he disliked a simple thing like milk made you amused and you would do anything to hear his voice pointing it out again.

With a brief look outside the windows a couple catches your eye, the way they laugh and look at each other, and you feel a knot in your stomach thinking you had him- his hands that you loved so much and his smiling eyes- and yet were able to do nothing but push him away from you every day more. And how you wish he was with you now. You wish he was here to brighten up the rainy European days that drag each other by slowly and to make you forget about who you used to be when you walked this streets the first time, heading towards the hospital because you broke your bones and you didn't realize it. 

 

You're at work and you're bored out of your mind and you're thinking about him.

You look up at the clock and wonder if the numbers feel special every time the hand points at them the same way you feel special every time his eyes stopped on you for ever just a brief second. 

Your mind starts wandering off and you hardly keep composed as you think of how mad it makes you that you haven't been able to enjoy the distract contacts his pale skin had with yours, because your body was disgusting and it wasn't able to feel anything the others could. 

 

You don't feel like eating but you force yourself to and as you're sitting alone in your apartment the sad, white European walls that surround you remind you of him. You look down at the pitiful patchwork of frozen food that's on your place and you think back at the times when Aoba forced you to stay over at his and his grandmother cooked for you some of the most delicious donuts you ever had. Of course back then you didn't say a word, but now in front of a depressing handful of sweet peas and some carton-flavored hamburger you can't help but think you should have had.

 

And you've been staying in Berlin for three weeks but it felt like eternity. Your parents now are all smiles and laughs and your brother is doing his best to be there for you but you feel so far from each and every single one of them you still feel apathetic towards them, but the reality is you're so confused and you don't know what you're supposed to do. And it's because now your mother cares about you, your father cares about you, your brother cares about you, your coworkers, your brother's new cat, the old lady at the bakery you buy bread from, everyone in your life suddenly cares about you and you're not sure whether you're supposed to be happy or cry yourself to death because it's true that now you have what you can call a family, but the one and single person you need to be important for doesn't care about you enough to follow you home.

 

The next morning you wake up with a warm feeling in your head and your eyes as heavy as bricks under your eyelids. You can barely stand up and you feel nauseous and dizzy but you keep telling yourself you're okay as you walk towards the bathroom to wash some tiredness off your face. The very moment your eyes meet their own reflection there is no lie that can make up for how red they are and how horrible you're feeling: you're having the worst hangover of your life and you know this wouldn't have happened if he had been here yesterday night.

Because he was prude and careful but somehow always had fun, instead you were horrible at making careful decisions and your recklessness made you so angry at yourself now, because you remember Aoba worried about you when you didn't worry about yourself and now he's not here you're supposed to fill in for that.

"He's not here", those words fill the void of your head with a painful sadness and you kneel down on the bathroom floor wondering if you ever did something wrong for him to disappear completely from your life. 

 

Maybe you have been the stupid one, leaving and, being the clueless shithead you are, burning every bridge with Midorjima and the period of your life you spent there. But you didn't mean any harm, you really didn't, and sure as hell you didn't mean to distance Aoba from you in the slightest. It could be because in your head it was all supposed to be like a love movie, in which after months you'd get an unexpected phone call from him and you'd see him appear outside your front door. And then, you would've been holding him close enough to choke and kissing until the last breath out of his mouth. But none of this happened, and you are still sitting half naked on your bathroom's floor looking up at the ceiling.

 

You notice it's been almost two months since when you arrived in Berlin but didn't unpack your things yet and you glance towards a pile of boxes full of useless stuff you got in Japan wondering why instead of all of those stupid clothes and pins you didn't bring Aoba with you.

You close your eyes and plop down on your sofa, neck open with your eyes fixed on the chandelier hanging peacefully from the ceiling. You have been so stupid.

But there is something you can do to make things better. You're not sure it'd work, but you have to try or else, you know, you'll go completely crazy.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in your life you feel yourself losing control of your emotions as you're looking at Berlin disappearing outside your plane window. All the lights turn to meaningless yellow dots in the blue of the evening and you close your eyes looking for peace, thinking that when you'll wake up next you'll be miles closer to him than you are now. You almost catch sleep immediately, for the first time in weeks, with the only sounds surrounding you being the little talks of two people in the seats behind you and the steady pumping of your heart beating in your chest. As you drift into sleep, the peaceful weakness of your bones is something you're suddenly very aware of. 

 

 

You open your eyes again after what felt like three minutes but actually was much more and as you glance outside your window you realize Midorijima is close enough for you to see the small houses surrounded by the green mountains, and even if it's nearly impossible for it to be true you swear you can see Aoba's house as well.

 

Midorijima's airport is so much smaller than Berlin's but here it does feel like coming home. You're jet lagged as fuck and you have enough luggage to look as if you were moving and your hair is a disaster and the coffee you drank on the plane was horrible, but you're happy.

 

You called a taxi to escort you to the hotel but the driver told you you had too much luggage and drove past you leaving you standing like an idiot in a dark smoke cloud. And usually you would've been insulting the hell out of him but today it just wouldn't feel right so try calling another taxi instead. This one has a fat, bearded driver that looks at you shortly, then laughs and asks you if you're foreign. You nod timidly with your eyebrows and the man keeps on laughing, but gets off of the car and helps you with your stuff and fills every possible spare inch of the vehicle with your stuff- also the back seats. You sit in the passenger seat and strangely the little talk of the driver doesn't annoy you, so as you're chatting mind absently with him you look outside the window and recognize every single building passing. The fish market, the various clothing shops, the tall buildings of houses and offices. You think it's almost like going back in time of a good thirty years every time you arrive here, with such little cars and the old fashioned vibe this island generally has.

 

You arrive at your hotel shortly after and the man drops your luggage at the entrance, so it'll be up to you how to look elegant and composed while carrying those heavy noisy things around the hall. 

You're so done with them you decide to leave the outside and enter on your own, you get your room keys and you head towards it immediately. Halfway through your walk to the elevator the receptionist asks you if the luggage outside is yours, and you're vague about the answer, not wanting to be scowled for letting your stuff in the middle of the street. But instead she asks you if you'd like it sent to your room, and you agree more than happily. When you're closed in the elevator you can't keep a small smile when you think that is right, this is the type of kindness Aoba grew up around, so it's no surprise he's now such a caring one. But soon enough you shake your head: Aoba isn't like that because of where he grew up in. He's like that because his heart is kind and everything he does he does it because he wants to, also being kind to strangers or taking care of air heads like you. 

 

Your bedroom is nice but you don't want to spend a single second more here.

Even if you say that, you're tired out of your mind and your legs are sore from the hours sitting on the plane. You sit on the bed to test the mattress and it's so fantastic you can't possibly stand up now, so you lay down just for a second but end up falling asleep still fully dressed, without your shoes on. When you wake up it's the morning after and even if you didn't mean to sleep at all you feel definitely refreshed inside and decide that probably taking a shower might refresh you outside as well- and if not, at least it'd be ideal for washing off the smell of plane and cheap coffee that rubbed off on you during your flight yesterday.

 

You aren't nervous as you slip in your favourite suit and you aren't nervous as you look at yourself in the mirror while fixing your hair decently, but you do get nervous when you look up at the clock and realize Aoba has been working for five minutes already and you're nervous when you notice just how bad you look and how painfully obvious it is that you've been lacking sleep in the past months. You decide that it's okay, that everything is going smoothly according to plan and jump in the elevator to the ground floor. You glance at your reflection in the small mirror inside it, but stop as soon as you realize there isn't a chance you will ever get to like your own face today.

 

Walking towards the shopping discrict where you know you'll find him is making your heart race like crazy, but you stay composed and tuck your hands in your pockets to pretend to don't notice how sweaty they are.

It's only a matter of minutes before you'll see him again after all this time. You can't think about it- you wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if you did-, and keep walking instead, until you recognize the old front door of that minuscle building Aoba works in. You stop.

 

You didn't mean to, but you did. What if he doesn't want to see you? If he completely forgot about you and want to have nothing to do with you anymore? ...If he's in love with someone else?

You push those thoughts aside, or you try in doing so, and wear the best face you can.

If he's to see you again after this long, you don't want him to see you with your long face.


End file.
